


The Shards of Mars

by Exostrike



Category: Barsoom - Edgar Rice Burroughs
Genre: Detectives, Fantasy, Gen, Horror, Murder Mystery, sword and planet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exostrike/pseuds/Exostrike
Summary: Under the cover of a sandstorm death has entered into the city of Lesser Helium. Guardsman Saran Tarad leads an investigation that will uncover forgotten secrets and a plot that threaten all life on Barsoom.An attempt to combine contemporary pulp detective tropes with the sword and planet fantasty of Barsoom





	The Shards of Mars

**Author's Note:**

> Bits of the Barsoom novels is in public domain, other stuff isn't. I don't own the bits that aren't
> 
> I thank CjtheShort on Discord for Betaing the story

Shards of Mars

 

Part 1: Murder in Helium

 

‘This has to be the worst job on Barsoom,’ thought Sark as he struggled through the dust. It was sandstorm season and the normally bustling city of Lesser Helium had become a ghost town, everyone hunkering down in their homes, normally open windows barred against the harsh Barsoomian dust. For the city guards, this was usually a good thing as crime, or at least visible crime, disappeared. However, even in conditions like this, when even the green hordes wouldn’t move, the city walls still needed to be patrolled.

 

Sark gritted his teeth against the dust and hugged his cloak tighter before staggered onwards. He could barely see the next crenellation along but he keep moving. Only twenty more and he would reach a watchtower and a break from the storm. Normally, wall patrol were on a strict time table with punishment for being off schedule, but in this weather slowness was accepted.

 

A crunch snapped Sark back to reality.t was harder than the sand hitting the wall or the roar of the storm above him. He paused to see if it was just something coming up from the city below. There it was again, a series of crunches that he could feel through his feet. “Anyone there?” His words were lost in the storm.

Sensing something, he turned to see movement in the swirling dust. A barely legible shape. “Halt! I see you!” Sark commanded, drawing his sword. He was not a great swordsman if it came to a fight. There was no way of raising the alarm in the storm either. The nearest alarm switch was in the watchtower behind him, to retreat would allow the intruder to escape or simply strike him down. Now if he could use surprise to…

 

Suddenly, the shape lunged towards him. Sark barely registered the movement before a blade stabbed into his chest. After a few seconds the lifeless corpse hit the parapet. There was nothing but the sound of the storm, the sand already starting to cover the body.

 

“So, what have we got?” Dwar and lead thief taker Saran Tarad asked, coming to the top of the wall, cloak still dusty from the abated storm.

“One dead guardsman, Than Sark Lanis. Assigned to the wall patrol,” his assistant Zand said, looking up from the body which had been excavated from the sand.

“How was he found?” Saran asked.

“Failed to check in at the next guard post and after a period of time someone was send to search for him. Guard tripped over him in the storm,” Zand explained what he’s learned from the men.

“How was he killed?” Saran asked.

“Sword though the front of the chest,” Zand stated, turning the body over to see the wound. “Note he had his sword draw so he was not taken by surprise.”

 

Saran turned to look out over the lands towards the red clouds of another storm coming in. “Instruct the wall guards to patrol in pairs in conditions like this. They will at least suffer in company, ” he declared after a moment’s consideration. “There will have to be an formal investigation. Tell the head of the wall watch he will have to be reprimanded. The last thing we need is the rest of the military using this as an excuse to take the duty of patrolling the walls away from us.”

“They still will try,” Zand pointed out.

 

“Well, we can at least give a good defence. You think he came across someone trying to cross the wall?” Saran returned to the case of Sark.

“We’ve inspected the outer wall, sir,” one of the wall guards stepped forward. “There is damage that suggest that someone did scale the wall,” she pointed to where part of the parapet edge had been recently broken.

“Any other clues?”

“None, I’m afraid. Storm has destroyed pretty much everything, won’t be able to give you might insight on the type of weapon until we get him to the mortuary,” Zand said.

“Well, it appears there isn’t much more to learn here. You may remove him,” Saran ordered.

“There was one other thing,” the wall guard said as the rest made to remove Sark’s body. “Some of the marks on the wall suggested a second set of hands.”

“You mean a green man?” Saran asked.

“It’s possible sir, or a team of men that tried to hide their numbers.” The guard said.

“That’s good deductive reasoning. Remind me to suggest you for the thief taking division.” Saran commented. Being the least prestigious arm of the military meant the city guards always suffered from a lack of talent. Best to make sure what they had was best utilised

“Thank you, sir.” the guard smiled before returning to her duties.

 

“Do you think it was a green man?” Zand asked as Sark body was wrapped up and taken away.

“Possible. But I’ve never heard of a lone green man doing something like this before, a outlying settlement perhaps but never a city. Just to check, are there any other groups near here?” Saran replied, running through the possibilities.

“A few trade caravans are allowed to camp within sight of the city. I believe they have been allowed to seek settler from the storm. For a hefty fee of course.”

“And tomorrow we may make war with them,” Saran commented dryly.

“Anyway, if our killer was a green man, he could have entered the city with one of those caravans.” Zand pointed out.

“As could have any other person, and there are so many unmapped tunnels into the city. No, I think whoever did this wanted it to appear that someone had entered the city,” Saran said, looking out over Lesser Helium alive with people taking advantage of the brief break from the storms.

“And to make it appear whatever it is was the work of the green hordes. Could be. What might be it be?” Zand asked.

“That’s the problem with knowing something is going to happen. You don’t know what. All we can do is be ready.” Saran said.

 

There was a commotion in the stairwell as a messenger forced his way past Sark’s body. Reaching the top, he rushed to Saran and saluted.

“Sir. You must come at once. I bring word that Lord Darkan has been found dead.”

“Tell them we will be there as soon as possible,” Saran said to the messenger who instantly departed. “It appears this investigation will have to wait, Zand.” Saran declared. The death of a lord was always considered more important than the death of a mere Than.

 

The storm was beginning to break over the city when they reached the Darkan palace. Set in a one of the older quarters, it had been surpassed by many other noble families centuries ago but was still a grand affair. The House standard that hung above the main entrance had already been lowered to half mast. Saran and Zand were ushered into the entrance hall, their dusty worn harnesses standing out next to the luxurious décor. Even so, the storm had taken the beauty out of the house, grand windows shuttered and courtyards sealed, turning the house into a labyrinth of shadowy rooms and muted colours.

 

“Welcome, thief takers. I am house mistress Isvia. It good you came so quickly,” a middle aged woman in formal attire approached them.

“I understand Lord Darkan is dead,” Saran cut to the chase.

“That is correct. He was found by the servants this morning,” Isvia explained.

“Are they still here?” Zard asked.

“Yes. I’ve had the house sealed until you arrived,” Isvia said.

“You seem to have followed the correct procedure. You clearly know your stuff.” Zand complimented.

“I have served in this house though many a feud. It pays to be prepared,” Isvia explained smiling.

“May we see him?” Saran asked.

“Of course, come this way. I’m afraid it is not a pleasant sight,” Isvia said’ taking them up stairs.

“I’m afraid we’ve probably seen worse,” Saran commented.

 

When they got to the master bed chamber, Saran could confirm they had seen worse, though not by much. Lord Darkan lay in his blood stained bed. He had been tied to the four corners of the bed with sheets then his throat had been slashed out. Then, or at least Saran hoped afterwards, his heart had been cut out. The look of terror on his face, locked in a silent scream showed he’d been awake for most of it.

 

“Has anyone else been in here?” He asked, surveying the scene.

“No one except the maid, the Lord’s personal bodyguard, and myself. We have confined everyone to either the servant quarters or guarding all the entrances,” Isvia said looking away from the scene.

“Has anything been touched?” Saran asked, noticed that a shattered tray of food, presumably from a maid, had been swept aside.

“No, nothing,” Isvia said a bit too quickly.

“Any sign of forced entry?”

“A window on the lower level had been forced and then resealed. We assumed attempted robbery until we found him.” Saran signalled for Zand to check it out, he left with another guard.

 

“Do you know of anyone who wanted him dead?” He continued asking Isvia.

“A few other Lords, old family feuds. But not enough to...” She broke off.

“Not enough to do this?” Saran completed her words walking her away from the crime scene and down to the entrance hall. This wasn’t the deft stroke of an assassin’s blade. This was a  more personal, more savage note.

“Family? I notice he was alone,” Saran pointed out.

“Lady Thour passed into the Iss some decades ago,” Isvia said.

“My respects. Any children?”

“Two. Both serving in the Air fleet at Greater Helium,” she continued. That eliminated the family from the usual suspects.

“Sir, we’ve found it!” Zand said, rushing into the hall.

“The murder weapon?” Saran asked, moving to the door

“Yes, sir. One of the guards found it.” Zand said, beckoning him to follow. Zand lead him to a large hall at the back of the house. It seemed to be some kind of collection containing a large variety of artefacts from across Barsoom.

“It’s clear that our lord was somewhat of a collector,” Saran commented, looking at a collection of swords. There seemed to be a lot of green man items here.

“I believe he was considered quite an archaeologist. Opened it up a few times to the public,” Zand said.

“Yes, I remember now. He was a great proponent for the idea that peace could exist between the green hordes. Would take long exhibitions amongst them.” Saran muttered, half-remembering some article or something.

“Well, it looks like his love of them killed him.” Zand said, arriving at the spot where a guardsman was examining one of the knives in a display rack.

 

It was clearly the weapon. That fact was made plain by the amount of blood still on it. “Not Warhoon. Too finely crafted. Might be Thark or one of the other bands.” The guardsman said, finishing his inspection of the weapon.

“Very well. Check to see if there is any record of where it came from. Also, check to see if anything else is missing.” Saran ordered, noticing several empty stands.

“Well, this looks like an open and shut case.” Zand commented as they returned to the murder scene.

“Why?” Saran asked.

“Lord Darkan travelled in green lands often. Perhaps when he obtained the knife, he made an enemy there. One that scaled the walls of the city to find and kill him in some brutal green ritual. This would easily be within their capability.”

“And then he put the knife back in the case of the museum, resealed his means of entry all without any of the guards being alerted? There is no way a single green man could have done such clinical work without making a racket,” Saran pointed to Darkan’s corpse now hidden by a sheet.

“Perhaps you are right.” Zand said apologetically.

“No. You are correct, that is clearly how we were supposed to see it. Now we just need work out what really happened.”

 

The rest of the day drew a blank. None of the guards or other staff had heard or seen anything. Darkan’s personal bodyguard who had been asleep in the annex next door swore to Iss that no-one had entered the room after his master had retired. Saran suggested perhaps drugged food, though this wasn’t the first time that supposedly loyal bodyguards suddenly grew careless. However, the bodyguard’s food had already been cleaned and no residue of any poisons could be found in the kitchen. A sweep of the staff there also drew a blank. Several items were confirmed to be missing from the collection but Lord Darkan had not believed in keeping organised records. The storm meant there were no witnesses for anyone being near the building. No clear motive, no clear suspects. The case of Sark had also drawn a complete blank. No one had seen a green man in that part of the city and Saran lacked the manpower for more than a superficial search of the surrounding wards. Zand maintained there was a connection but he was unconvinced. Frustrated, he retired to bed, filtering out yet another storm lashing the city, hoping for a flash of inspiration.

 

Saran snapped awake, instantly alert. There was an intruder in the room. Honed reflexes, a stray sound or psychic emission had tipped him off. He lay for a second as if still asleep. Suddenly. he rolled over, sliding out his blade into a ready position, hoping to parry any attack from the shadows. Only to be perfectly deflected by the unknown assailant. A blade hovering just above him. “You are slow. I could have killed you,” a voice said in the darkness.

“But not fast enough to prevent me sounding the alarm,” Saran shot back, his free hand poised over the dimly glowing button wired directly to the nearest guardhouse.

“And yet, you do not,” the voice pointed out.

“I get the feeling you are no common assassin. I take it that you coming here is related to the killings yesterday?” Saran asked.

“Correct,” the voice said again, the sword disappearing. Saran remained in his parrying position.

“Then summoning the guards would not be wise. Shall we have some light?” Saran asked, shifting his hand from the button to turn on the room’s light.

 

A ring of crystals flared to light, the darkness receding to reveal a Green man standing over the bed. His sword held in the ready position. Like all Green men he towered over Saran, though his harness and weapons were finer than many Saran had killed over the years. His skin stilled showed the lines and scars of the brutal life in the horde, however.

“You know, it is impolite to break into people’s homes unannounced. Let alone hold them at sword point.” Saran commented.

“Apologies. I was not sure how you would react,” the Green man said, deciding sheathing the sword. It was not like he couldn’t kill Saran with his second set of hands.

“Still, breaking into my home without me hearing you is… impressive,” Saran commented, stepping out of the bed not lowering his own blade.

“I have the skill. The storm covers much,” the Green man explained.

 

Clearly enough to sneak around the city without been seen Saran thought. “So, who wants to meet me so badly?” Saran asked.

“I am Dak Notar, warrior of Thurd,” the green man answered.

“Saran Tarad, Dwar of the City Guards,” Saran finally lowered his blade.

“How do you know me? I doubt I am well known outside of the city.” Saran asked.

“I observed you during the investigation of the death of Lord Darkan. You seemed to be in command. It was a simple matter to follow you in the storm,” Dak explained.

 

Saran thought that must have taken some skill, to follow him without being detected once. “So, you were involved in the death of Darkan?” Saran asked.

“No. He was dead when I found him. Their revenge must have been brutal,” Dak said.

“It certainly was, but it was you that killed Sark?” Saran asked, hoping to solve at least one of the killings

“If you mean the guard on the wall? Then yes.” Dak stated plainly. Such disregard for life was common for his kind Saran remembers.

“Why?” He asked, it was clear Dak had not come to kill indiscriminately.

“I could not afford to be discovered. I did not know how much influence they might have.” Dak explained.

“You mentioned them before. You said ‘their revenge’. Who are ‘they’?” Saran asked.

 

“I do not know their names. Red men like you and Darkan,” Dak replied.

“So how did you know Darkan?”

“Years ago, a Red man approached my war band seeking passage through our lands and a guide. That man was Darkan.”

“An unusual act,” Saran commented.

“Which was why we did not kill him there and then. However, he was known to our Jeddak. He was able to secure passage for him and his companions. I was selected to be their guide,” Dak continued.

“These companions? These are the ones you spoke off?” Saran asked.

“Yes. There was five of them, plus several servants.”

“Must be some kind of scientific or archaeological expedition,”

“Whatever their aim, they refused to speak to me. Only Darkan listened to my advice. He was the only red man I’ve ever encountered that truly understood life in the horde.”

“So where did you take them?”

“I did not know, we travelled for many days. They seemed to be navigating from ancient charts and writings. I was simply to guide them though dangerous terrain, even when I suggested alternative routes, they refused. Finally, we came to a ruined city deep in the desert.”

“Do you know which city? It might be helpful to find who the other men were.” Saran asked.

“I do not think it had a name. They did not know it. Nor anyone I have ever spoken to has had any knowledge of the city. That, and it was unlike anything I have ever seen.”

 

“In what way?” Saran asked. Even the ancient Orovaran cities had a wide variety of architectural styles.

“The buildings always felt alive, despite being long dead. Always cracking and shifting. It was always as if someone was watching you. Perhaps it was the bones that littered the street and every building.”

“Some great battle?”

“We thought so at first, but they were all intact and too ordered. It was as if something had swept through the city and burned their flesh away. We travelled to the centre of the city where a giant tomb had been erected. There, they began to dig for a way in. After several days they discovered a sealed entrance and opened it.

“What did they find?” Saran asked, intrigued at where this was going.

“I do not know. I was ordered to patrol the city for threats. After several hours, I heard the screams.Terrible cries of fear, terror and finally pain. When I returned to the camp site I found the men arguing. Their servants were missing. They refused to say what had happened to them.”

“They had been killed?”

“It was obvious, by the rest of them or by some terrible evil, I do not know. We broke camp shortly afterwards. All through the march they continued to argue.”

“About what?”

“They tried to keep their discussions secret from me. Perhaps they feared I would report what I knew to my Jeddak. But from what I overheard, they had discovered something in the tomb, something powerful. They wanted to study it further, understand it. However, Darkan opposed them. Said it was too dangerous. Finally, things came to a head and a duel broke out between Darkan and their leader. Darkan won, then he and I left them to make our own way back. On our return journey, Darkan implored me to keep watch over the city to guard against anyone else returning to it. I kept that promise, denied all knowledge of it to my Jeddak, returning when I could to keep watch.”

“Why try to contact him now?” Saran asked knowing the answer.

“Several days ago I returned to check on the city. I found evidence that someone had returned to the city. Signs of a campsite and an airship mooring. The tomb had been disturbed, tracks showed that heavy objects had been removed from within. I did not dare look inside, ” Dak replied.

“You think Darkan’s fellow men had returned to the city?” Saran suggested.

“I assumed so. And now Darkan is dead,” Dak pointed out.

“Yes, you better sleep here tonight. As you say, we do know now how much power these men have,” Saran said. Though, clearly enough power or money to arrange the killing of a lord, he thought. What kind of plot had he stumbled in on?

 

“How thoughtful of you,” Dak said, already preparing to sleep right on the floor.

“You can take the couch,” Saran said, pointing to the divan at the other end of the room. Dak looked at the undersized piece of furniture for a second before using it to cushion his head. Saran watched the green man fall asleep, clearly exhausted. Clearly, the horde never taught proper decorum, Saran thought, beginning to return to sleep. Though, he kept the blade at the ready in case Dak was simply pretending.

 

‘So, I have a Green man who has admitted murder hiding in my home,’ Saran thought was he walked through the street. By all rights, he should turn him in, it would clean up the case quickly. But, the fact he had not being slain in his sleep by him had given some weight to Dak’s story. Or he was simply using Saran for his own ends. Either way, he wanted to see if he could find any proof first before brining in anyone else. He had Zand lead a sweep of the wards between Darkan’s manor and where Sark had been killed to keep him out of the way. He might even turn up something to disprove Dak’s story.

 

His first port of call turned up nothing, the royal scientific and archaeological society declared that Darkan had resigned his membership in protest at the promotion of green mental inferiority ideas. Members were not required to report any expeditions and Darkan had not presented any findings as part of a group. His second port wasn’t much better, Darkan’s clearly had had no interest in keeping clear records, most of which were piled around his study. Even then, there was no guarantee that Darkan had kept details of the expedition or that they hadn’t been taken when they killed. There had to be an easier way.

 

“Isvia, a word please,” Saran asked, approaching the house mistress.

“Yes, Dwar?” She asked, pausing in her duties.

“Did Lord Darkan break off any friendships or professional relationships?” He asked.

“My Lord’s ideas cost him many friends over the years.”

“I am talking more sudden. Without explanation,” Saran pressed.

“There was one that springs to mind. Duke Thadtok,” she answered after a moment’s thought.

“Can you remember why?”

“No I cannot. It was so long ago. Is it important?” Isvia replied, slightly distant.

 

“No. We are investigating if the Lord had any enemies,” Saran lied. “We believe the green man may have been a hired assassin by someone within the city.”

“I hope you find those responsible for this outrage.” Isvia said, fire in her voice.

“So do I,” Saran responded, walking away. Sometimes asking the staff really did pay off.

 

Saran readied his pistol as they made their way to the Thadtok estate. It was a risk taking Dak out in the open, but it was time to end this as quickly as possible. “That is a most unusual pistol. Almost rifle calibre.” Dak commented.

“I don’t get much chance to use it,” Saran admitted, most criminals only carried swords. “But when I do, blowing apart walls is highly effective at stopping opposition.” They reached the Thadtok estate, not even bothering with the front but using Dak’s height to push Saran over the garden wall and then unlock a side entrance. Still, Saran had expected a guard on the gate.

 

The house was deadly still as they entered. Not the usual lifelessness of a house sealed against sandstorms, but something else, something more tangible. No servants discovered them nor did any guards challenge them. The place was lifeless.

“I get the feeling we are onto something” Saran commented.

“Yes, it is like the ruined city,” Dak replied.

“Then that means Thadtok and whatever they took from there must be here. Let’s keep going,” Saran said.

 

They headed deeper into the manor and the stiller the place got, all the while a thousand eyes seemed to stare at them. Finally, they came to a set of double doors with light shining out from underneath. Saran and Dak took positions on either side of the door. ‘Ready?’ Saran signalled. ‘Ready.’ Dak replied.

 

They burst into the room together. The room they entered had been a large banquet or meeting hall, but it now had been converted into something more macabre. Most of the room had been cleared and a laboratory or workshop had been set up. In the centre was a giant crystal. Its transparent surface almost appear to be rippling. The mere sight of it set Saran’s teeth on edge.

 

Around it, several figures seemed to be studying it. One them was pacing around, an aide following him. “The others don’t seem to understand. The amount of life force they need is incredible. I have already had to sacrifice many to…” The man looked up and saw them. “Intruders!” He screamed in surprise. Saran didn’t even need to look at Dak to see this was Duke Thadtok, and he had been one of the men that had been with Darkan.

 

The rest of the figures, at least 5 of them, rushed them, lead by two burly bodyguards, swords already drawn. The rest, clearly not well-trained in combat handing back. Saran thought about giving the standard order to cease and surrender, but decided there was no point and charged forward. One of the bodyguards parried his sword thrust, forcing him back and giving his companions time to flank him.

 

Sensing this, Saran turned his attention to them, hacking one down as his attempted to jump past. The other man, clearly having some combat skill, waited. Then him and the bodyguard attacked together. Saran sidestepped the bodyguard’s attack. Using this opening to kill the other.

The bodyguard prepared to redouble his attacks when Dak’s sword hacked into his back, killing him instantly. Saran looked over to see Dak had dispatched his own share just as quickly. Smashing one of them into a set of lab equipment. That just left Thadtok fiddling with a bank of instruments hooked up to the crystal. “Give it up, Lord Thadtok! Your men are dead. Surrender and the law will be merciful!” Saran called out.

“You will not stop me, Law man, nor your pet beast!” Thadtok spat and threw a switch on the device.

 

The crystal seemed to burst to life, auras of energy building up. Both Saran and Dak winced as a wave of physic energy washed over them. Something stepped out of the crystal, a barely animated shape of energy. “Kill them. Feed on them and we will give you what you want!” Thadtok commanded. The being seemed to look at Thadtok for a second before turning to face them again.

 

Suddenly, Saran’s world exploded in light and sound. The figure advanced slowly, confident that they could not resist while under such psychic attack. Barely able to resist the assault, Saran raised his pistol and emptied it at the figure. They passed though it as it was dust, a few embedded themselves in the crystal, not even fracturing it.

 

Saran staggered backwards from the assault. Dak, hissing, did the same. Trying to keep a defensive formation against the oncoming figure, one of its arms became a wicked blade. As it passed through one of the fallen men, his body was sucked into it. Flesh melting away into nothingness as the figure glowed even brighter. “It will kill us if it touches us!” Saran warned as he headed to the door. The figure was quicker, shifting its advance to cut them off from the door.

 

Moving in for the kill, the being had pushed them up against the wall of the room. Dak picked up and hurled a table at the thing but it passed right through, burning up as it did so. “It is useless to resist. Give your lives to the rebirth of the old gods of Barsoom!” Thadtok called out, safe behind the crystal. ‘Man’s mad,’ Saran thought, pushing back against the rattling wall. ‘Rattling?’ He turned to see he wasn’t against the wall but shutters across an entrance or window.

“The shutters! Get them open! It’s our only chance!” He yelled, moving to protect Dak. After a moment of confusion, he realised what Saran was up to. With his massive upper arms, he grasped the shutters and pulled. With a tearing of metal, the shutters broke away revealing a full length stained glass window. Thadtok had just enough time to cry out in horror before sunlight hit Saran’s bullets, still embedded in the crystal, and their inner core exploded.

 

The crystal shattered. The figure almost seem to scream and then disintegrated as a swirling mass of energy poured from the remains of the crystal. Thadtok was consumed instantly. His screams lost in the roar of the crystal as it seemed to lash out ferociously. The light emanating from the remains of the crystal was getting even brighter and the sound was getting louder. “We need to get out of here. That thing is going to explode,” Dak said.

“I think you are right,” Saran agreed and made for the exit.

 

They were half-way to the main entrance when the crystal went critical. The house crumbled as the crystal began consuming everything. As the floor collapsed underneath them, Saran staggered, hit by fallen plaster. With a great burst of strength, Dak picked him up and crashed through a window to escape. They staggered down the road just before the entire building exploded in a massive discharge of energy.

 

“Well, we are not going to learn anything from that,” Saran wheezed, setting back on his feet.

“We should get moving. The guards will be coming and I doubt they will be friendly,” Dak pointed out.

“Probably best,” Saran admitted, limping towards an ally.

 

“So, what will you do now?” Saran asked when they were safe his his home, tending to their wounds.

“I do not know. I had hoped to avenge Darkan. Instead, I have even more questions,” Dak admitted nonplused.

“I simply hoped to close the case. But, this is something else,” Saran commented.

“Which is why my task is not finished. It is clear that Thadtok had help in his foul work. I must track down the men that went to that city with Darkan. Perhaps then we will get the full story.” Dak said.

“‘We’?” Saran raised an eyebrow.

“Surely you will come with me on this quest?” Dak asked.

“I am a guardsman of the city. My duty is to it.” Saran pointed out, Dak looked disappointed. “But what I saw suggests there is some kind of plot against this city. Therefore, it is within my duty to investigate with you,” He continued.

“Good. Together, nothing can stand in our way,” Dak said, offering his hand to Saran.

 

“Which is why what I must do is so painful,” Saran said, drawing his sword on Dak.

“What is the meaning of this?” He said in shock jumping back.

“I am loyal to my oath of loyalty to this city. And you did confess to the murder of Than Sark,” Saran pointed out. The two of them inched apart, Dak’s hand still kept away from his swords.

“I regret that killing. It was unnecessary,” Dak admitted.

“I’m afraid that is no defence in front of the law,” Saran stated. ‘Almost betraying someone who saved you wasn’t easy. Remember, he is just a green man,’ part of his brain thought. ‘They’d betray you as soon as look at you.’

 

“The,n I will submit to justice,” Dak said calmly.

“The general punishment for a green man is death!” Saran said, shocked at how easily Dak would throw his life away.

“If it is what must be done to make amends. But, promise me that you will avenge Darkan for me.” Dak said. ‘By Iss!’ Saran screamed internally.

“Then that is a promise I cannot keep,” he said lowering his sword. “I think it would be better if we solved the murder of Darkan first. I’m sure that will allow a reduced sentence,” he said holding out his hand.

“I agree to your promise,” Dak said, sealing the pact with one of his own hands.

 

Suddenly, the door to the room was smashed open. Several soldiers poured in, swords drawn. “Do not move!” An officer orders.

“What is the meaning of this?” Saran said, waving for Dak to keep his hands is sight.

“I am sorry, sir! This comes from the top,” Zand said, stepping into the room. “By the orders of Jed Mors Kajak, you are under arrest for the murders of Than Sark, Lord Darkan, and Duke Thadtok, in addition to consorting with the green hordes against the interests of Helium,” Zand read from a charge sheet.

“This is preposterous!” Saran protested.

“Indeed, sir, but this is out of ours hands now. I am simply here as as courtesy, if you surrender peacefully, I am sure we can get this mess sorted out. Even if the green man isn’t helping your case,” Zand gestured at Dak who grimaced at the insult.

 

“How very good of you, Zand.” Saran said, stepping forward in surrender

“Thanks, sir. This isn’t easy.” Zand admitted, relieved at resolving situation without violence.

“Sorry for this,” Saran said. In a flash, even before Zand realised what he was going to do, he punched him, laying him out cold. The other guards disorganised by Saran’s sudden action, moved in, orders to arrest him be damned. Dak, already coiled, leaped at two of them, smashing them into a wall. The final sergeant was easy prey to Saran. “Don’t kill them!” He warned as Dak readied his blade.

“Why? They were to capture us,” he protested.

“They were just doing their duty. I will not have unnecessary deaths on my conscious. No, someone has framed us.” Saran said, checking the unconscious men.

“How do you mean?” Dak said, checking outside the room with a snatched pistol. No sound of running men.

“The charge sheet mentioned Thadtok, how would they know he is dead? They are probably still sorting through the rubble, assuming there was even a body to find. Far too quick to make the connection, even if someone recognised me.”

“Then you think they already knew we were onto them?”

“Possible. You saw the physic power of that thing. If they had similar crystals they could have seen us kill Thadtok.”

“Now you know why I was so fearful to enter the city normally. So, you think this Mors Kajak was one of the men that went with Darkan?” Dak pointed out.

“I doubt Mors Kajak even gave the order. He’s out of the city on manoeuvres. It probably just came from his office,” Saran explained, scrambling to pack a bag of provisions.

“Which means what?”

“Which means this conspiracy we are up against has some friends in very high places. Either way, the city isn’t safe any more.”

“Then we need to escape.” Dak commented.

“Yes, but we can’t simply walk out of the main gate. They will almost certainly have warned the guards,” Saran explained, finishing packing.

“Then how?” Dak asked.

“I know a way,” Saran said.

 

Slipping out the backway, they saw a patrol wagon in the street and another group of soldiers entering the house. Clearly, a military operation, given they’d failed to seal off the area allowing them to slip away. Making sure to dodge any guard patrols, they made their way across the city towards a large, fortified building.

“What is this place?” Dak asked as they made to approach the main entrance.

“City Guard Hanger Complex. Now look, you are not a fugitive,” Saran muttered.

“Will not they know who we are?” Dak protested.

“They are expecting us to be heading out of the city. Not walking into a military base. Anyway, the hanger complex is always slow in getting alerts.”

 

Saran marched up to the lone guard at the entrance. “This green man has information about a possible raid on the out districts. I’m here to request a reconnaissance flight to check it out,” Saran stated firmly. The guard looked at Dak cautiously but Saran did have the rank of Dwar on his harness.

“Sure, sir. But, you know they’ll say it’s a military matter,” he said, opening the gate.

“I know, but protocol must be followed,” Saran said as they stepped though. “Told you it would be easy,” he said quietly as they walked through the entrance hall. “But we must be quick. You will attract attention and someone is to catch on soon.”

 

“So, what are we doing here?” Dak asked as they made their way up the building.

“Is it not obvious? We are going to fly out of here,” Saran commented as they stepped out into the main hanger.

“Are you serious? Green men do not fly,” Dak said as they approached a small two seater flier.

“Well it’s a bit late now,” Saran commented, climbing into the front seat. “Anyway, all you have to do is hold on while I pilot.”

 

“Hey, you don’t have authorisation to fly that!” Said a mechanic walking towards them. Saran fire a warning shot, sending him running for cover. Slot shot. An explosion in here would turn the hanger into a inferno.

“Get in!” He ordered, bringing the craft to life. Dak complied, jumping on as the flier lifted into the air. With the cries of alerted men, they sped out of the hanger.

“By Iss,” Dak said as the flew over the city still half blinded from the sudden sunlight after the hanger.

“Your first flight is always an experience!” Saran said, struggling to control the craft as they twisted between buildings. “Shift yourself forward, you are throwing off our balance,” Saran asked, realising that the flier had never been designed to take a green man. Dak moved his body weight forward, practically sitting over Saran. With the balance shifted, the ship started to rise about the streets.

 

“Will not your air patrols attack us?” Dak asked as several one-man fliers seemed to be approaching them.

“This is a military flier. They should wave us past,” Saran said. The approaching flier broke off when they identified the craft, Saran madesure to salute them as they passed. “Most of the fliers don’t carry a wireless. Until they get new orders, all they see is a military craft on a mission,” he continued as they flew unopposed over the city walls.

 

“Will they not send others after us?” Dak asked.

“Doubt it. No sane pilot is going be heading out now with that on that on the horizon,” he said, pointing to their right. Dak looked over at the brown wall stretching across the horizon.

“A sandstorm?”

“Yeah. A big one,” Saran said pushing the craft to its maximum and turning away from the oncoming storm front.

“Can we outrun it?” Dak asked.

“Not for long,” Saran admitted.

“How was this a good plan?”

“Well, it was the only one I could think of that would get us out of the city without pursuit.”

 

“Well, now that we are out of the city shouldn’t we land?” Dak suggested, turning his head to see the storm consumed the receding shape of Lesser Helium.

“I want to get as far away from whatever power our enemies have as possible!” Saran said, pushing the flier to the maximum as the storm closed in.

“Even if you kill us?” Dak said. The storm was close now, buffering the flier.

“Fine. I’ll put us down,” Saran said, reducing speed but the storm was already upon them.

 

Visibility dropped to zero, instantly leaving nothing but a brown mess of swirling sand. “Hold on,” Saran said, lost in the deafening wind. He was barely able to see as sand hit his eyes, he fought to bring the flier down to a ground he couldn’t see. ‘Stupid idiot,’ his mind scolded him. There was a reason no one flew during a sandstorm.

 

Their wing tip struck something, what they never found out, and buckled the entire wing. With that, whatever control he had disappeared and the flier turned over. Saran felt Dak hug him tightly before they crashed into the ground. The craft buckling underneath them and hard sand and then the blackness claimed him.

 

  
  
  



End file.
